Intimations: Black Velvet versus Ebony
When lights are on, and I close my eyes, I see black velvet. When I close my eyes in the dark I see blackness opaque as ebony. In both instances, I'm well aware things exist which I cannot make out, but behind the velvet I surmise these things have rounded contours. In the blackest black I am afraid if I brush against something, I may receive a bruise from its sharp edges. In that instance I am more likely to remain motionless.
In the velvet there is poetry, as if only definition has disappeared. In the other instance, time may have passed, and I am more concerned with what may have occurred and less with exploration.
In the velvet the darkness seeps into me and is immediate. The ebony surrounds me and is infinite.
When I experience the velvet it is usually out of choice. Contrition and awareness are only a blink away. Otherwise, it makes no difference and sorry seems unattainable. Fear is pervasive.
The velvet comes often. It is a trifle. The ebony is always behind the door. It is the door. Once it slams, opening it takes some doing.
In the end, for everyone, forever, as we have no choice, is jet black ebony, the blackest black. Starless and eternal night wins. No one has ever broken even. All lose, one at a time, each and every one. For those who await their turn, closing their eyes and experiencing momentary velvet; trying to recall the lost, snatching a fragment here, a memory there, the light returns, and the darkness recedes. It, too, waits. For its winning is ineluctable, inevitable and complete. It comes when it will. As if it knows resistance is futile.
Do not go gentle...
But go you must—eventually.
Michael D. Brown lives and writes in Chiapas, Mexico. You can read more of his work at Outside-In.